Johannesburg's OR Tambo International Airport, usually a melting pot of cultures and nationalities, played host to an unusual departure on a recent chilly Sunday evening. Amidst the throngs of tourists and business travelers, a distinct group stood out near the international departures hall. A few dozen individuals, predominantly young and notably white, huddled together, their luggage carts overflowing with the essentials for a long journey – travel pillows, children's blankets, and an air of quiet anticipation. They were waiting for a charter flight, their destination: Washington Dulles International Airport in the United States.
These weren't your average holidaymakers. They were Afrikaners, a community descended from mainly Dutch colonizers who held the reins of South Africa's brutal apartheid regime for nearly five decades. And their journey wasn't a vacation; it was a quest for refuge in Donald Trump's America.
Charl Kleinhaus, a 46-year-old claiming to own a farm in Limpopo, South Africa's northernmost province, was among this group. He had applied for refugee resettlement in the US earlier in the year, stating that he had faced threats and attempts to seize his property. Interestingly, he wasn't required to provide concrete proof of these incidents or their timing. Now, he was part of a pilot program, a controversial initiative by the Trump administration to grant asylum to members of the Afrikaner community.
The rationale behind this unprecedented move? The Trump administration claims that white people in South Africa face discrimination in a nation where they constitute a mere 7 percent of the population but still hold a disproportionate amount of wealth, owning over 70 percent of the land and occupying the majority of top management positions.
Upon their arrival at Dulles International Airport, the group received a warm welcome from US Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau. "I want you all to know that you are really welcome here and that we respect what you have had to deal with these last few years," he reportedly told them, acknowledging their "long tradition" and "accomplishments."
Speaking to a journalist, Kleinhaus expressed his surprise at the progression of the "land expropriation thing" in South Africa. He was referring to the recently enacted Expropriation Act, a law allowing the South African government to take land for public use without compensation under exceptional circumstances. The government in Pretoria maintains that this measure is crucial for redressing the historical injustices of apartheid, as Black South Africans, who make up over 80 percent of the population, still own a meager 4 percent of the land.
South African officials vehemently deny that this law has led to any land grabs. Furthermore, there is no record of Kleinhaus's property being expropriated, and the government claims to be unaware of any threats he might have faced. Minister in the Presidency Khumbudzo Ntshavheni emphatically stated to Al Jazeera, "The people of South Africa have not been affected by the expropriation of land. There’s no evidence. None of them are affected by any farm murders either."
The narrative being pushed by the Trump administration also hinges on widely discredited claims of a "genocide" against white farmers in South Africa. In February, when signing the executive order granting refugee status to Afrikaners, Trump cited these allegations. He reiterated this stance upon the arrival of Kleinhaus's group, telling reporters, "Farmers are being killed. White farmers are being brutally killed, and the land is being confiscated in South Africa."
South African President Cyril Ramaphosa has firmly refuted these claims, asserting that they are based on lies and that the departing group did not face persecution at home. He suggested their departure stemmed from a reluctance to embrace the democratic transformation underway in South Afric.
For 60-year-old Sam Busa, who has also applied for asylum in the US, watching Kleinhaus and the others leave was a moment of hope. Busa, a semi-retired businesswoman, has been actively encouraging other Afrikaners to consider the US offer through a website called Amerikaners, citing racial persecution as the grounds for seeking refuge.
When questioned about her own experience of racial persecution, Busa recounted a home invasion in Johannesburg where she was held at gunpoint. While acknowledging that Johannesburg is a high-crime city, she asserted that it didn't matter whether the incident was racially motivated or simply common crime; she no longer felt safe. She also expressed fear over the singing of the anti-apartheid song "Kill the Boer" by Julius Malema, the leader of the far-left Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) political party, despite court rulings that the song does not constitute hate speech or incitement to violence.
Like Kleinhaus, Busa pointed to new legislation aimed at bolstering racial transformation, including employment equity targets and land expropriation, as the "straw that broke the camel's back." She believes that white people have no future in South Africa, citing fears of home invasions and the perceived constant threat of crime. "It has become clear to white South Africans; it’s not disguised," she claimed.
This narrative of fear, however, stands in stark contrast to the views of many experts who have debunked the assertion that white South Africans are victims of racially motivated attacks rather than common crime, a pervasive issue affecting all communities in the country. South Africa records approximately 19,000 murders annually, and police data indicates that the majority of rural crime victims are Black, with no evidence suggesting a disproportionate targeting of white farmers.
Adding another layer of complexity, Minister Ntshavheni pointed out that many participants in the US refugee program are not even farmers but urban dwellers. Katia Beedan, a copywriter-turned-life coach from Cape Town who is also awaiting resettlement, stated that applicants don't need to prove racial persecution but simply articulate it. She cited racial transformation laws targeting employment equity and land expropriation as key reasons for her desire to leave, feeling "overwhelmed" by these policies.
However, many other South Africans view the situation differently. They see sections of the Afrikaner community, particularly right-wing lobby groups like AfriForum that initially promoted the "white genocide" narrative, as struggling to adapt to a society where their race no longer grants them preferential treatment.
Thuli Madonsela, a social justice activist and South Africa's former public protector, offered a sharp critique, suggesting that "AfriForum is struggling with the reality of being ordinary." She argued that the "new South Africa requires all of us to be ordinary, whereas colonialism and apartheid made white people special people." Madonsela further speculated that some white South Africans might be seeking to regain a sense of special status and have found an ally in the American president.
The timing of Trump's decision to expedite the resettlement of Afrikaners is also noteworthy, as it coincided with his administration's efforts to curtail refugee programs for asylum seekers from war-torn and famine-stricken regions of the world.
Loren Landau from the African Centre for Migration and Society at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg described the Afrikaner refugee relocation as "absurd and ridiculous." He questioned whether Afrikaners could genuinely make the case for being refugees, defined as those who cannot be safeguarded by their own states and fear persecution or violence due to their identity or social group membership.
While acknowledging that some discrimination against Afrikaners exists in South Africa and that they now have "less privilege and protection than during the apartheid era," Landau argued that this does not equate to state-sanctioned persecution. He emphasized that robbery, murder, and discrimination affect people of all races in South Africa. "Are they [Afrikaners] specially victimised because of who they are? Absolutely not!" he asserted, pointing to the continued dominance of the white population in land ownership, income, and education levels. "They are still by far in the top strata of South African society. No one is taking their land. No one is taking their cars."
Despite these expert opinions, the fear remains palpable for individuals like Busa. "I fear for my children. You never know when the EFF decides they want you dead. It’s not a country I want to live in," she stated. The EFF, ironically, has suggested that those who choose to leave South Africa as refugees should have their citizenship revoked.
The South African government is now grappling with the implications of this situation, considering whether those who leave as refugees could easily return to the country. President Ramaphosa is expected to discuss the matter with Trump during an upcoming meeting in the US.
Meanwhile, the Afrikaners who have already arrived in the US are set to settle primarily in Texas, with others finding new homes in New York, Idaho, Iowa, and North Carolina. The US government will assist them with finding work and accommodation. They will initially hold refugee status for one year, after which they can apply for a US green card for permanent residency. The Afrikaner resettlement program remains open to other potential applicants.
As Kleinhaus and his group arrived in the US, their smiles and enthusiastic waving of US flags painted a picture of hope and relief. However, for President Ramaphosa, their departure marks "a sad moment for them" and a decision he believes might be short-lived. "As South Africans, we are resilient. We don’t run away from our problems," he declared at an agricultural exhibition. "If you look at all national groups in our country, Black and white, they’ve stayed in this country because it’s our country. I can bet you that they [the Afrikaners who left] will be back soon because there is no country like South Africa."
The unfolding story of white Afrikaners seeking refuge in the United States is a complex tapestry woven with threads of historical injustice, contemporary socio-economic disparities, political rhetoric, and deeply ingrained fears. It challenges our understanding of who qualifies as a refugee and forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about race and privilege in a post-apartheid world. Whether this exodus will be a temporary blip or the beginning of a larger trend remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: this curious case will continue to spark debate and intrigue for a long time to come.
